All's Fair In Love
by doubleox515
Summary: It is the year 2500 and the world has changed. Little of old planet Earth remains and the same secret is hidden in the depths of Parliament. No one knows of the true world, the true identity of hundreds of people - no one, except the leaders. With Earth on the brink of war again, what happens when Judith Ross meets one these people? Between love and death, what should she choose?
1. Prologue

**A/N: HELLOOOOOOO**

**Long time no see, huh? Sorry about that. But guess what? Here's a story! Woooooooo!**

**So, the tale behind this is that my good friend hellodair on Deviantart wanted some help on a story she was writing. Then one thing led to another and we turned the story into a collab. Thus this was born!**

**So yeah. Pretty interesting turnout, if I may say so myself :3**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not hellodair's or mine. Hidekazu Himaruya has all rights. The story and plot belongs to myself and hellodair.**

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"President Ross! How do you feel about—"

"—over here! Smile for the camera—"

"How are you planning to address the issue of—"

"—current affairs?"

Marcus Ross glanced down at the horde of reporters beneath him, frantically jabbing their microphones into his face and fighting for his attention. A wave of irritation washed over him but it was soon diminished as he looked beyond them to the masses of people ahead. The large crowd who had gathered to see his initiation as President cheered and applauded encouragingly. There were the occasional jeers but Ross tried not to let those get to him as he smiled inwardly. After several long months of campaigning, he was finally successful. It was tiresome, hard work that was subjected to a lot of controversy, but looking down at the citizens below him, he realised that it was worth it.

He was the President of the United States of America.

Clearing his throat, he tapped the microphone in front of him. The resulting noise echoed across the large expanse and the voices quietened until only a few whispers could be heard. Once again, Ross smiled to himself. He'd never held so much power before but now that he did, he was going to enjoy it while he could.

"Citizens of America," he began. The crowd shouted in excitement but Ross raised a hand, silencing them. "It is my pleasure to be elected as your new President. I can assure you, _all_ of you, that you will not be disappointed. I—"

"Mr President! Can you fix the areas affected by The War?" someone in the crowd interrupted.

Ross chuckled heartily, running a hand through his greying brown hair. "Now, I can't promise you the impossible," he said, "but I guarantee you that I will do, or at least try, my best to fulfil my duties as President. Consider all our current issues solved! The tax increase brought on by our former President? The escalation of environmental matters? Those are just minor disputes, my friends. I give you my word that I have a plan of _action_. This year, 2500, is a year of _change_—"

"Ah, President Ross?"

Ross's lips pressed together in a thin line. He sighed in annoyance. It was the second time in a row that he had been interrupted, and not only was it bothersome, it was humiliating as well.

"Excuse me for a second," he said promptly into the microphone. The crowd's deafening noise immediately resumed as Ross turned around to find the source of the voice. Expecting a meddlesome reporter, he was surprised when he came face to face with Nathan Young, the Vice President who had been re-elected for the third time. Young arched a dark eyebrow inquisitively, and although he was about fifteen years younger than Ross himself, there was something about the man that disturbed Ross.

The President swallowed uneasily. "Yes, Mr Young?" he asked.

"I apologise for interrupting you, President, but we have to leave now," Young replied, fixing Ross with an unwavering stare. "There's something we need to show you."

"That's, ah, fine," Ross said, wiping his brow, but the other man was already stepping up to the podium and informing the spectators of their abrupt departure. There were some cries of disapproval but Young ignored them as he stepped down next to Ross.

"Are we ready, President?" he asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Ross grinned, making an attempt at jollity. His smile quickly faded after Young did not return it.

"That's good," Young said in a way that indicated he couldn't care less whether it was good or not as the doors of the Government Building slowly creaked open. Black-suited bodyguards instantly moved to surround the two men as they made their way inside.

As they walked, Ross snuck a sideways glance at the man beside him. Young's black hair was immaculately gelled and combed back, his midnight-blue suit flawless and free of creases. There were frown lines at the corners of his mouth, signs of someone who was much too serious. Ross quickly directed his gaze forward before the other man could realise that he was being inspected. Ross, as the President, might be the one who held the most authority now but it was undeniable that he was a rookie compared to Young. The Vice President knew his business and Ross was just taking his first steps.

_Ironic_, Ross thought, allowing himself a small smile.

After several more minutes of pacing and turning corners, the bodyguards began to disperse. Ross peered through the gaps they were leaving behind. He could see that they were in the middle of a long hallway with a red-carpeted floor and elaborate hangings on the walls. The hall led to a set of double oak doors that Ross realised, a shiver running down his spine, were the doors of the Presidential Office.

By the time all the bodyguards had taken their positions along the sides of the hall, the two men were standing directly in front of the doors. Ross whistled appreciatively, placing his hand on the smooth wooden surface. This was the moment he had been waiting for.

"Well?" Young said tonelessly. "Do us the honour of opening the doors."

Sending Young an exasperated glance, Ross placed his hand on the brass door handles and pushed the doors open. They swung inwards, revealing the Presidential Office in all its splendour – wood-panelled walls lined with several bookcases and paintings, an extravagant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling and a floor-to-ceiling glass window at the far end of the room that offered a view of the entire city. In front of the large window sat the mahogany desk and high-backed leather chair of the President.

The high-backed leather chair that was already being sat on.

Ross gaped in shock at the boy sitting in the chair – the chair that rightfully belonged to _the President_. He looked no older than twenty, with dark blonde hair and bright, cerulean eyes that twinkled mischievously behind a pair of rectangular-framed glasses. He grinned, showing some very straight, very white teeth, as he stood up, smoothing down his tan-coloured uniform.

"Hey," he said, sauntering over to Ross. He extended a black-gloved hand, which Ross did not shake. Unfazed, he let it drop back down to his side. "You must be the new President. President, ah…"

"R-Ross," the President stuttered, grey eyes wide. "Marcus Ross."

"Well, President _Ross_," the boy said, putting the emphasis on Ross's name. "Pleased to meet you."

Ross blinked several times. Suddenly, he began to feel angry. Red spots danced in front of his eyes as his mouth began to curve into an agitated frown. Who was this… this boy to question Ross's authority, to mock him by taking his seat?

"Yes," Ross said tensely, almost spitting out the words. "And who might you be?"

The boy grinned slyly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, which only infuriated Ross further.

"You—" Ross began, going red in the face.

"Stop messing with him, America," Young cut in, his voice expressionless.

Ross paused, mouth open. He whirled around to face Young. "Who on Earth are you talking to?" he asked.

Young cocked his head at the boy, who was watching them both with an amused expression.

"I'm sorry, but did you say… America?" Ross said slowly.

"One and only," the boy interjected, a wide grin on his face. It was clear that he was enjoying this immensely.

Ross turned to face him. "That's a very… interesting name," he said carefully.

"It is, isn't it?" the boy mused, setting his blue gaze on Ross. For the first time, Ross felt intimidated by someone other than Nathan Young. There was something in those blue eyes that seemed incredibly ancient, although the face that they were positioned upon was youthful and fresh. "But if you like, you can call me Alfred."

"Alfred?" Ross repeated. "Why Alfred?"

The boy shrugged.

"It's his human name," Young answered, his voice monotonous as always.

"Human… name?" Ross echoed quietly.

For the first time, Young seemed to show some emotion. He rolled his eyes. "You don't get it, do you?" he asked, not waiting for an answer. "The world isn't what you think it is. This has always been a closely guarded secret known only by members of the government and the higher-ranks of the army. Now that you're part of one of those groups, you have a right to know."

Ross's mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out.

"Treat it like a privilege, my friend," Young drawled, "because it's not going to last. This whole thing – you getting elected – it's all a setup, anyway."

At that last comment, Ross seemed to find his voice. "Two things," he said slowly. "One: so you're saying that he," he pointed at the boy, "isn't human. Two: I'm sorry, but of course I was legitimately voted in! The people love me! It wasn't a… a _setup_. I… I don't believe _any_ of this."

"Believe what you want," Young said, "but both things are true." His footsteps echoed across the room as he strolled over to stand next to the boy – America, Alfred, whatever his name was.

"So if it was all a setup, although I'm not saying it is," Ross said stiffly. "Why did you pick me? Why me, out of all the other eligible candidates?"

"The world is at war, Marcus," Young said. Ross froze. It was the first time that the other man had ever used his first name.

"War?" he scoffed. "What war? You know the world is at peace now. We haven't had a war since…" He trailed off, and Young looked away. They all knew about The War, though no one liked to talk about it. It happened over three hundred years ago and was most likely the biggest war in human history. It changed _everything_. Alliances shifted, land was destroyed, and millions, maybe even billions, of lives were lost. It was a miracle they were where they were today.

"I know," Young said. "But believe me, it's happening."

"It is, all right," the boy confirmed. "I can feel it."

"It will be a while until the whole world knows about it," Young said. "However, I think you do know why we picked you, Ross."

"No," Ross said in disbelief. "No, I don't."

"You have something that we can use," Young said, raising his eyebrows. "Something that can help our side win the war."

"Win?" Ross repeated. "Don't you want to _prevent_ it instead?"

"I'm afraid that's impossible."

"So… what exactly is it that I have that everyone else doesn't?"

"You know what it is." Young's steely-eyed gaze drilled into the President. After a few moments of silence, realisation dawned on him. He began to feel an emotion that he hadn't felt in a long time—dread.

"No," he whispered. "No, you can't. Please, not her."

"Sorry, President." A cold smile formed on Young's face. "But it's too late to back out now."

Ross paled and he shoved his hands in his black jacket pockets to hide them from the prying eyes of his companions – they were shaking tremendously. Young didn't notice but the boy glanced at him, a concerned expression on his youthful face. He approached Ross and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, whispering quietly in his ear, "I'm sorry, President Ross, but we have no choice. It's the world or us."

"How can you say something like that?' Ross demanded, his eyes narrow and brow furrowed. "I don't even know what this 'war' is about! You have no right to take the most precious thing to me and turn them into a weapon!"

He shrugged off the boy's hand and turned to glare at him over the top of his spectacles.

"I will not allow it – whatever you tell me, whatever you threaten me with, I will not hand you my treasure."

"P-President, I'm sorry—" the boy began but Young cut him off.

"Quiet, you two," he said. "We are going ahead with this plan whether you like it or not."

If he was irritated before, it was nothing to what Ross felt now: fury. How dare these people – these morons – threaten him and take his presidency as some form of an advantage? He was the President of the United States of America – if anyone had power, it was him, not these two idiots. Whoever the hell they were, they would not take him and stomp on him.

"Look," he said, holding up both hands. "I don't know who you think you are, but _I_ am the one in charge here. In case you haven't noticed, all decisions have to be passed by me. So if you're thinking that you can just, I don't know, _go ahead_ with this insane plan, think again. _I_ am the President – not you!"

There was a stunned moment of silence as the boy and Young stared, alarmed, at Ross. Ross felt a burst of triumph blossom in his chest and a small smile curved on his face. He had stumped them – or so he thought.

Before he could even blink, Young had withdrawn a pistol and had pointed it at Ross's forehead, a glint of madness in his orbs.

"Vice President Young!" the boy exclaimed, his eyes round and his cowlick quivering as his head moved from side to side: first to the gun, then to Young. "What are you doing? You can't just—" But the boy was cut off as Young cocked the gun into place with a sneer on his pointed face.

"There's still a lot you do not understand about the world, America," he breathed, his crazed gaze fixed on Ross. "For starters, its people. You may be a country, but I am a citizen. I live in this day and age every winking hour. I know things you don't. Now shut up and do as I say."

Small beads of salty water formed on Ross's brow as he kept his eyes on the barrel of the gun. Not even an hour had passed from when he had officially stepped into office and already he had assassins wanting him dead.

Quickly turning his head to the boy, he was shocked to see a stormy expression on the youth's face. It was one he never wanted to see again: the very aura of the boy was ancient and forever, mixed emotions swimming in the air around him. The bright cerulean spheres he had met earlier had darkened drastically and they were filled with things he was too inexperienced to understand. Ross was frightened – terrified of what this kid – this mere child – had been through in his lifetime.

Suddenly, Young was on the ground, falling with a cry. Ross was petrified in his spot and he saw the American lad with his own weapon pointing at Young.

"I may just be a country," he growled softly, his finger ready on the trigger. "But if there is one thing I understand better than anything else, it's my people. How do you think my personality is created? By magic?"

He gave a brief chuckle, a flash of misery passing his countenance but it went away as soon as it came. Ross gaped at him, not quite sure what to feel – awe? Terror? Shock? If there was someone other than Young who daunted him, it was definitely this boy. He realised how ridiculous that sounded but it was true.

To Ross's surprise, Young let out a loud, somewhat insane laugh. However, the boy was unfazed. If anything, his vice grip on the gun he held in his hands tightened, his knuckles white from the effort.

"You think you scare me, America?" Young grinned, a mad sheen to his dark eyes. Ross swallowed in fear. Young's calm, composed, serious demeanour – that was all just a false exterior that hid his true self: a madman. "You're wrong. You are _very_ wrong, my friend."

"I don't," the boy said, the muscles in his jaw tensing. "I just think you're a lunatic. And don't call me your friend."

Young laughed a short, bitter laugh. He stood up, causing the boy to curse in alarm. "Drop your weapon!" the boy yelled, bright blue eyes flashing with anger.

The Vice President opened his hand, letting the gun fall to the carpeted floor with a dull _thunk_. "Happy now?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

Ross watched the ongoing exchange in silence, his back pressed against one of the wood-panelled walls. _Please don't kill me,_ he thought in desperation. _Please don't kill me._

"No," the boy said stiffly, but he lowered his own weapon anyway. Young smiled in satisfaction, smoothing down his rumpled suit.

"You'd better be careful, boy," Young warned, a malicious smile on his face. "Next time, I won't be so forgiving."

"Neither will I," the boy replied, his head cocked to one side. For a brief moment, Ross thought he saw a flash of fear on Young's face, but the next moment, it was gone. _I must be imagining things,_ he thought to himself.

"Well," Young said, his face once again an emotionless mask. He patted down his ruffled hair until it looked relatively presentable. "I'd best be leaving now." He gave both of them a brief nod as if nothing had happened, picked up his gun, and then strode briskly out of the room.

"Good," the boy said coldly. His narrowed eyes followed Young's retreating figure and continued to glare in his general direction even after the doors slammed shut. Ross could practically feel the malevolence emanating from the American youth, although he was standing at the other end of the room.

Once Ross was sure that Young was truly gone, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. "Oh my God," he whispered, burying his face in his trembling hands. "Oh my God. Please tell me that none of that happened. This is a dream. Please let it be a dream."

"Sorry, President," the boy said, a hint of remorse in his voice. "But it's not."

Ross groaned, rubbing at his temples. The boy looked down at him in apprehension.

"Look, I think Young is up to something bad," he said. "To be honest, I was glad when you got chosen to be President, even though it was all… you know. I think we could make a good team, find out what Young—"

"Please," Ross interrupted, holding up a hand. The boy pursed his lips into a thin line but allowed Ross to continue. "This is all too much. My presidency is all a setup, the Vice President has something against me, and, well…" He gestured at the boy. "And you. I need some head space. Please, just… leave me alone for a second."

"I—" the boy began but seemed to realise that his efforts were going to go unnoticed. He sighed in exasperation and left the room, leaving Ross alone to wonder what on Earth he was going to do.

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**A/N: So there you have it. The prologue on one of the biggest works that the pair of us have indulged ourselves into.**

**Reviews are much appreciated and if you like, you can read this story on Deviantart (if you'd prefer) on either my account or hers.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello again. I've decided to be nice and post the first chapter today instead of tomorrow.**

**If you guys have any questions regarding this story, feel free to ask! I will not bite, and neither will hellodair.**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not hellodair's or mine. Hidekazu Himaruya has all rights. The story and plot belongs to myself and hellodair.**

* * *

Running – that's all she could do. She was sick of the stress and the work she had to do. Why couldn't she have a normal, simple, simple, _school-free_ life?

The cool breeze of the spring air blew at her flushed cheeks, ruffling the fine strands of the brown locks on her head. She stood on the edge of a lush, green hill, overlooking the only unaffected area of peaceful, silent escape. This was her sanctuary; this was where she could think.

Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her red jacket, she stared out at the landscape below. Towering trees of various shades of colour bordered a large lake, which glistened in the morning sunlight. Vibrant green grass stretched out for several acres. Dotted amongst the blades of lawn were flowers of different sizes and shapes, swaying in the soft wind. That was where the paradise ended. Beyond that, the scene changed, merging into unfertile, barren land riddled with decrepit, crumbling buildings – the product of The War, something that to this day still could not be fixed.

She could've spent her life right here on this hill forever. Never again would she have to hold a responsibility to please – after all, her father _was_ the President of the United States.

Unfortunately for her, the university that she attended happened to be located in one of the dilapidated, War-affected areas of the city. Her father, being the President, felt forced to encourage her to attend an education facility ran by the government. It was bad enough that the injudicious government thought that placing a sparkling, clean-cut modern building in the middle of an old war zone would pave the road to repair and recovery. She didn't see how having her there would make much of a difference.

To make matters worse, that part of town gave her the shivers. It sounded stupid but she had felt it more than enough just to pass it off as an arbitrary reaction. There was something off about that place and she felt as though there was a lurking shadow following her down the deserted streets everywhere she went. Naturally she brushed it away as a silly idea, but that didn't stop the hammering of her heart whenever she set foot into the area.

She shut her blue eyes, much like her mother's own, and breathed in the sweet smelling air around her. Nothing could beat this calm, soothing atmosphere – plus it was a perfect spot to train.

No one but her father knew of her abilities to turn the Earth against itself, to create monstrosities in the blink of an eye. Only he knew of her capabilities and he swore to protect her. She didn't see why, of course, for she didn't use that kind of power for evil.

She used it to grow and repair.

_As if the world really needs any more damage added on to what is already there_, she thought bitterly to herself, bending down and twirling a blade of grass in-between her fingertips. Plucking it out, it lay limp in the palm of her hand as she stood up again.

For a few moments, nothing happened, but then there was a minimal glow of gold and there was a gorgeous poppy sitting in her hand. She brought it up to her nose and gave it a good sniff, sneezing lightly when the pollen went up her nose. Letting it go, it danced and swirled, the wind being its stage.

"Judith!"

She turned around, momentarily startled, but relaxed when she realised it was someone she knew. A smile played upon her lips as she set eyes upon the familiar face – large green eyes framed by dark lashes, a narrow nose speckled with freckles and a cheerful smile that for some reason seemed somewhat forced today.

"Annaliese," Judith sighed. "They sent you to get me, didn't they?"

"No," Annaliese said slowly.

"You're such a bad liar."

"Okay, fine, they did," she relented. "Look, Judith—"

"I know what you're going to ask and my answer is no," Judith said stubbornly, turning away. _Leave me alone, dammit_, she thought, scowling.

"Judith, please," Annaliese pleaded. "You can't just skip class all the time!"

"Yes I can." Judith turned her gaze away from her friend and once again overlooked the view in front of her. She heard Annaliese give an annoyed _tsk_ and was highly surprised to see her coming over to where she stood.

"Nice place," she commented, scuffing the grass with the toe of her sneaker. "Why do you keep coming here, Judy?"

"To think," Judith replied simply and she sent a small smile Annaliese's way, which she did not return.

"Listen, Judith," she began, hesitating a little. "You can't keep doing this. Your dad's the President now. How do you think he's going to react once he finds out that you're jigging?"

Judith was beginning to get peeved. She loved Annaliese as she was her best friend, but sometimes she could really get on her nerves – and this was one of those times.

She said nothing and continued to stare outwards. The wind had picked up and was billowing her hair into her face and her crimson coat was flapping around her ankles.

"Jesus, it's freezing," Annaliese mumbled grumpily, bringing the thick, woollen jumper up to her pink nose.

"You don't say," Judith muttered. Annaliese sent a pointed glance her way but it was ignored, much to the other girl's annoyance. Soon enough, Judith once again found herself lost in her own thoughts. She was getting cold and she knew she could make the wind die down a little but she didn't want to freak out Annaliese. After all, a secret was a secret and as much as she wanted to tell her friend, this was something she had to keep to herself.

Her father had made that clear, after all – especially after what happened to her mother.

"They're going to be wondering where I've disappeared to," Annaliese said, interrupting Judith's train of thought.

"You're welcome to go back if you want to," Judith said, shrugging.

"You know I am going to do no such thing," Annaliese argued, putting her hands on her hips, a motherly aura forming around her. "This is becoming ridiculous, Judith."

Judith couldn't help but smile at that. "You can't make me actually do anything, Anna."

"Try me, darling," Annaliese warned playfully, a smirk forming across her face.

Both girls glanced at each other briefly before falling about laughing, tears of mirth streaming down their rosy cheeks. Judith couldn't believe that she had such a good friend; no one had really ever looked out for her other than Annaliese – not even her father had time for her due to his ambitions in parliament. He was constantly busy and even despite her constant pestering she could never have his full attention. Maybe that was partly why she kept skipping school – to get attention, as ludicrous as it sounded. She needed someone, anyone, to notice her – she was always lonely. If only someone would love her for who she was but she knew that could never be. _Who would want to be with a freak, anyway?_

Deciding to push away her thoughts for the moment, she turned to her friend.

"Hey, Annaliese," she said softly, a forlorn expression developing, a melancholy tone to her voice. Annaliese noticed her change of character and frowned. "You can go back if you like. The lesson's over anyway."

Annaliese checked her watch, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"So it is," she murmured, "but I don't want to leave you here."

"I'll be fine," Judith told her, "besides, you still have that Neuroscience lecture, don't you?"

"I know, but…" She hesitated. "I'm worried about you, Judy."

"Like I said, I'll be alright," Judith said, grabbing Annaliese's shoulders and pushing her in the direction of the university. "Just go. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

"Just be careful, okay?" she told Judith before raising a hand in farewell and trudging down the hill. Judith hugged her slim body and watched as her friend went, a tiny part of her wishing for her presence once again.

She brushed that thought away and made her way down the other side, the long grass welcoming her. Large shrubs bordered the grassy plains, looming around her like they wanted to swallow her up and leave no trace behind. The sun beat down on her head, the heat reduced in intensity by the frigid winds. Judith pulled her coat tighter around her and shivered. It really was getting cold. As much as she wanted to toy with the weather and adjust it to her liking, she had to restrain herself. The weather system was fragile, especially during spring; everything was growing, changing, and even the simplest of alterations could mess up the whole process and send everything unravelling into chaos.

This side of the hill was a lot more pleasant that the other. From her high vantage point, she could see the new city stretching out in front of her – the tall, glass-panelled buildings reflecting the blinding sunlight back at her, the streets speckled with vehicles and pedestrians. They looked miniature from a distance, like children's toys or little ants. In the centre of it all was the Government building, looking splendid as usual with its glistening white paint and Roman-style architecture. Judith pressed her lips into a thin line. She hated the Government building, hated what her dad's position had forced her to do, hated the press attention and the responsibility demanded of her.

Around the edges of the city spread thick forests and the valley, areas which had not yet been cut down and demolished by the ruthless Government to expand their city. It was a relief that the town had such a small population, unlike what Judith had heard in her History lectures back in high school – around five hundred years ago, cities had started to sprawl out into the natural environment as populations grew and grew in a never-ending cycle. The pollution had become so bad in some areas that replenishment programs had to be invoked, not to mention the rapid depletion of resources that occurred as people callously expended what they had been given and more. In a way, it seemed almost a relief that The War had happened. Maybe the human race had been so shocked by such an atrocious event that the tiny, remaining fraction of it had decided to change their ways.

Normally, Judith would catch the train that took students from the university in the War area into the city, but on some occasions she would dare to take the trek through the valley that separated the two. The foliage was thick and there were probably dangerous animals around, which made the journey unsuitable for most; however, Judith was different. Anything she encountered would generally leave her alone – not because she had such a formidable appearance that she frightened animals away, but because they could sense her connection to the natural environment. She liked to think that they respected her but that was probably just her deluded mind attempting to make up for the fact that she was virtually friendless, with the exception of Annaliese.

Pushing her thoughts away, Judith tried instead to focus on walking as fast as she could in order to get back on time. Not that she couldn't have made her way back to the university and taken the train from there; that place made her feel uneasy and she had no intention of returning just so she could get a trip back home.

After a while, she reached the bottom of the trek and almost tripped over her feet as her eyes took in something she had never seen in the valley before. Her breath hitched and she quickly looked for a place to hide; a chunky oak tree caught her eye and she slipped into its shadow, peeking out from behind the trunk at the strange thing.

A lone, tall figure stood amongst the vegetation, their head tilted skywards. They sported a thick bomber jacket, one that she had seen pictures of in books at the university about what was known as the Second World War. A large, white number fifty was printed on the back of the leather article; Judith was instantly fascinated. She had always loved history and wars that had taken place over four hundred years ago intrigued her.

As the lean form turned around, Judith's thoughts of battle and past occurrences vanished from her mind, her heart picking up speed. A foreign feeling coursed through her being, overwhelming her as she took in the man that was now facing her.

He looked about her age, maybe a few years older, with a round face and azure eyes shimmering from the sunlight. A head of blonde hair was covered by a woollen beanie and an orange scarf was wrapped comfortably around his neck, his chin and nose nuzzled into it, shielding them from the cold. A pair of spectacles hung from his nose and a gloved hand reached to push them back up before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

Judith was captivated – never before had she seen another person in this area. She was certain that not even her father knew of it and it was only recently that Annaliese discovered she had been coming here. It was the perfect location – secluded, tranquil and untouched by human activity. Well, at least it _was_. If one other person knew about it, how many more could there be? Two? Ten? Thirty? She hated to think what could happen to her precious, private sanctuary if damage was wrecked upon it.

The man looked at his wrist, a silver watch glinting in the little sun there was. He heaved a sigh, hunching his shoulders.

"Why does this have to be so difficult?" he murmured, scuffing his foot on the jade pasture.

_Difficult?_ Judith thought. _What's difficult?_

A harsh sound burst through the peaceful atmosphere, startling the pair of them. The man's head snapped towards the sound, staring straight at the spot where Judith was hidden.

_Oh my God_, Judith thought, clapping her hand over her pocket. She'd forgotten all about her phone – and her dad. He would have been wondering where she had disappeared to. Even if she ditched a lecture, she'd always make sure to come back on time to prevent him from suspecting anything until notified by the university.

"Hello?" the boy called, squinting in the direction of the ringing. "Who's there?"

_Oh my…_ Judith fumbled to get out the vibrating, buzzing device, inwardly cursing at fate. If she didn't get away soon, the boy would find her, not to mention that her dad would kill her. But how she was going to do that she didn't know. She withdrew her phone, pressing several buttons to silence the noise while muttering some very inappropriate words.

"Hey!" he yelled, interrupting her anxious thoughts, an edge of impatience to his voice. "I know you're there!"

Judith squeaked in alarm as the sounds of running feet came towards her. Scrambling to her feet, she turned away, ready to run as fast as she could, only to feel something pulling her backwards. The force rocked her on to the heels of her feet, causing her to stumble back, gasping and clutching at the collar of her coat. Instead of the soft fabric of gloves, she could feel a scratchy sensation on the back of her neck. Sighing in relief, she reached back and yanked the tree branch out of the folds of the red material.

_Good_, she thought, _he hasn't caught up to me yet._

"Where are you going?"

_Damn._

Swivelling around, Judith met the soft, slightly confused gaze of the boy staring at her. As she made eye contact, the beating organ in her chest hammered painfully against her ribs and her cheeks went warm. She was frozen, like a deer in a car's headlights, staring in awe at the striking figure in front of her. His dark blonde hair was lightly tousled from standing in the wind, cheeks flushed and mouth slightly agape. His gaze was quizzical, the cerulean orbs questioning her.

"Hey," he said, raising his hand in greeting gingerly, a ghost of a smile gracing his features.

"Um, hi," said Judith awkwardly. "Look, I – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to encroach upon your privacy or anything—"

She was cut off as a low chuckle flew past his lips. "Don't be silly," he declined. "This is your place as much as it's mine."

She blinked in surprise for a brief moment, startled. _Does he know who I am?_ Judith thought, but dismissed the thought immediately. _No, I'm acting stupid. He's just being friendly_. "Well, uh – thanks, I guess."

"It's no problem," he replied, a megawatt smile spreading across his features. There was a pause where he seemed to be in deep thought before he blurted, "Say, uh, what's your name, sunshine?"

"Ju—" she began, about to say _Judith Ross_, when she paused. It might not be safe to let him know who she was. Maybe she was just being paranoid, but it was necessary, especially since her father was the President. "Annaliese," she said instead, "Annaliese Perkins."

"Annaliese," he repeated, the syllables rolling off his tongue. "That's cute!"

Judith couldn't help but blush deeply. "Um, thank you… again?"

The boy laughed loudly, a sound that made the ambience around them lighten in a way that the sun never could. "It's only the truth, sugar." He held out his hand, his irises sparkling with mirth and an emotion that Judith could not quite put her finger on. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Annaliese – I'm Ame – I mean – Alfred Jones."

Judith arched an eyebrow. "Nice to meet you, too." She paused. "I've never seen you 'round here before. Do you go to my uni?"

Just as he had clasped her hand in his own, he stiffened, a look of confusion spreading across his crown. "Uni? What uni?"

"Like, university?" Judith asked, puzzled.

Alfred blinked several times, still holding Judith's hand. Then, recognition formed on his face and he let out an, "Oh! Right yeah, of course! I knew that."

"Uh, okay. So are you going to answer my questions?"

"Oh, no. I don't go to uni… yet," he answered, his grip tightening on Judith's hand. She let out a yelp and he hurriedly let go. "Sorry."

She shook her head and gestured for him to continue, saying, "Why don't you go to uni?"

"I… haven't really chosen a place to go yet," he stated, shrugging lightly. "I'm fresh out of school, you see, and I'm one of those late bloomers – so to speak."

"So, you're older than the average age or younger?" Judith inquired curiously, her head tilted to the side.

"Older, I suppose," he said, "only I'm kind of new around here, and I liked the look of this place."

"New, huh? Where are you from?"

Alfred seemed to hesitate before responding with, "The city. Like, in the very heart of it."

Judith gasped. She had never met anyone from the city before – mainly because she never bothered to leave her house apart from her trips to the university. Other than her father and the couple of government officials who he hung around, the people of the city were foreign to her and the idea of actually conversing with someone was both exciting and strange at the same time. _It's my own fault_, she thought, frowning, _I really need to get out more._

"You seem surprised," Alfred told her, an amused appearance to his stature.

"Well…" She shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm kind of… antisocial."

He chuckled. "Well, we'd better change that, hadn't we?"

Alfred dug around in his pocket and extracted a plain piece of paper and a biro. He jotted down a few figures and offered it to Judith.

"Here."

She took it, squinting at the messy writing for a while, before she realised that it was a mobile number. Glancing up, a surprised expression on her face, she asked incredulously, "You're giving me your number?"

He grinned. "Well, duh."

"But – but – I _just_ told you that I'm—"

"Yeah, I know," he rebutted, clapping his palms on her shoulders. "And I said that it's time to change that. So, give me a chance, eh?"

"But I – I don't—" She sighed. "Okay, fine. You win."

A childish grin spread across his face, and he handed her another piece of paper – _I swear he's hiding an entire notepad in that pocket_, Judith thought to herself – and the pen. "Give me yours too, just in case."

She quickly scribbled her phone number on the lined paper and gave the objects back to him. He pocketed them, a smug, satisfied look on his face. "Thanks, Annaliese."

"No problem," Judith replied, allowing herself a tiny smile. She had to admit, he was pretty attractive – not to mention the fact that she now knew someone other than Annaliese.

Alfred grinned, showing straight, white teeth. Checking his watch, he told her, "I've got to go now." He paused. "See you around, Annaliese Perkins."

She smiled back. "Likewise, Alfred _Jones_."

He chortled, raising an arm as goodbye and he turned in the opposite direction. Then, he quickly spun around and added, "You know, Annaliese, I think we're going to be great mates."

Judith's mouth fell open. Never before had anyone said that to her – not even Annaliese, who had simply attached herself to Judith and assumed to herself that they were automatically friends. It made her feel… nice, which was a significant change from recent events. "I think so, too," she blurted out, feeling herself flush red.

Alfred merely sent her another pearly-white grin and jogged away. She could hear the sounds of his laughter receding, carried to her on the wind. She watched him go for a while before she realised that she was still holding the piece of paper with his phone number on it. Stuffing it into the pocket of her coat and fastening the button to ensure that it didn't fall out, she began the long trek back home.

_Hey, he's actually pretty cute_, Judith thought, a small grin on her face, as she ran up the hill. _I wonder if I'll see him again any time soon._

* * *

**A/N: Hehehehehe dorky America. I love it :'D**

**And yes, Judith - you shall see him again :D**

**Reviews are much appreciated. **


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not hellodair's or mine. Hidekazu Himaruya has all rights. The story and plot belongs to myself and hellodair.**

* * *

The moon was up high, its rays hitting the russet locks on Judith's head. Crickets chirped and a few bats screeched as the next waves of stars appeared in the inky sky. Clouds began to form and the first signs of a storm hit her nostrils, along with the familiar tingle that occurred in her being whenever a major downpour was progressing.

As she hurriedly approached a large building with long windows and cracked stone, multiple thoughts raced about in her mind, each of them going back to the boy with the blonde hair and charming smile. The piece of paper in her pocket felt heavy, and she was highly tempted to call him when she reached the private walls of her bedroom.

Unfortunately for her, however, it had taken her longer than usual to get home from the valley, and she was certain that as soon as she stepped foot into the house, she was going to get lectured by her father.

Which was why she wasn't surprised when she hung her coat on the hooks by the door that she was bombarded with questions.

"Where have you been?" Ross shrieked, his temple contracted and his eyes dark with concern. "You are an hour late! Plus I got a call from the university today, telling me that you didn't go to your lectures! What kind of behaviour is this, Judith?"

Judith remained silent as Ross continued to cluck like a mother hen and scold her heatedly. She felt guilty for causing her father to worry, but a small part of her relished in the fact that she had managed to make a new friend that day. _I sure am paying for it now…_

Ross breathed in deeply, his countenance beetroot red. He closed his eyes and Judith knew he was commencing with his 'calming solution': it consisted of him counting to ten and back slowly, before carrying on with whatever he was doing before. He had used it countless times – she should know, being the cause of most of those occasions. Despite how much stress she knew her rebellious behaviour caused him, she couldn't stop. It was almost as if this had become some strange routine that they were both familiar with, that remained the same whatever the circumstances – except that if anything, her father's anxiety levels would increase each time.

"Do you know what kind of pressure this is putting on me?" Ross continued, his face even redder – if that was possible. His calming ritual had apparently not worked. "Do you know how to _appreciate_ things that are given to you? If it wasn't for my job, you wouldn't be able to even _set foot_ inside that university! And you just discard it, throw it away as if it's nothing, and you cause me all this worry while you're at it—"

"Dad!" Judith interrupted his tirade, holding up a hand wearily. "Dad, _stop_."

"No, Judith," he fumed, "I will _not_ stop. You know that I get concerned easily, and yet you still continue with this nonsense! Do you even know how long this has been going on?"

"Yes, actually—"

"THAT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION!" Ross yelled. "I work hard to give you the privileges that you deserve, to keep you safe – I know you're a bright girl, Judith, I know that you're capable of doing all the work that the university can give you and more; and I know that if you just tried to put in a _little_ bit of effort, you could break out of this infuriating habit of yours of skipping class all the time!"

"Dad—"

"Don't you 'Dad' me!" He breathed in deeply. "I thought they took you."

"Seriously, I'm _fine_—" Judith paused, blinking, as his words sunk in. "You… you thought they _took_ me? What do you mean by that?"

"I- I- I didn't mean anything," Ross stuttered. "I mean, nothing. I didn't mean anything."

Judith eyed him suspiciously. "Right," she said slowly.

He waved a hand impatiently. "Never mind that. The point is that you have been disobeying me – disobeying pretty much _everyone_, in fact – and that I will not stand for this ridiculous behaviour. I can't have you wandering around like some stray animal all the time while I try to mend my somewhat erratic relationship with the university officials – and this is just making it worse!"

"Dad, _calm down_," Judith reassured him. "I'm fine, okay? See, I'm here, aren't I?"

"I know, but…" He trailed off, running a hand through his hair jadedly. "I've already lost your mother, and… and I don't want to lose you, too."

She looked down, fingering the hem of her blue t-shirt. Ross hardly ever brought up her mother, his wife – Judith had been only eight when… well, when it happened. "I- I'm sorry, Dad," she said quietly, her voice barely audible. "I guess it was wrong of me to… y'know, do what I did."

"And you're right," he reprimanded her, but the harshness to his voice had disappeared, instead replaced by a sort of resignation or submission. "I won't tell you not to do it again, because I know you will anyway. Just… just go get yourself cleaned up and we'll have dinner."

"Fine," Judith said, turning around and striding away indignantly. Head bent and firsts clenched at her sides, she made her way to her room, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. Sure, her dad had been angry before, but never had he been _disappointed_. She could handle fury, livid shouts and irate scolding, but disappointment? It was almost a foreign concept to her, and it made her feel downright guilty. She didn't like guilt. Guilt was bad, because it meant she had done something truly wrong, something that couldn't be fixed with just words.

Upon reaching the door to her bedroom, she slammed it shut huffily, the loud _bang_ reverberating throughout the empty hallways. With just the two of them, their house seemed empty and oversized, almost deserted, like a ghost town. Sometimes Judith wished she had siblings, but when she heard Annaliese's crazy stories of the trickery and mischief that her young brothers had caused, she changed her mind. Maybe if she did have some company at home, she would have turned out differently – more confident, perhaps even exuberant. Maybe if she had siblings, her father wouldn't be so concerned all the time. Maybe if she had siblings, things wouldn't be the way they were now… because maybe her mother would still be around.

Deciding that overthinking things would do her no good, Judith changed into the first things she grabbed from her wardrobe: a pair of old track-pants and a faded yellow t-shirt. After a moment's thought, she concluded that she would shower after dinner, and instead pulled her hair into a messy bun, the loose strands hanging down beside her face. Before leaving the room, she took a moment to stare at her reflection in the mirror of her dressing table. The girl staring back at her looked tired, the grey shadows under her eyes more prominent due to numerous sleepless nights – and had she lost weight? Despite all this, her blue orbs were bright, shining with excitement and curiosity, curiosity about the boy with the radiant cerulean eyes and the old-fashioned bomber jacket.

Judith stepped out of the room and shut the door quietly behind her, which she thought was an ironic contrast to her entrance. Padding silently down the dark halls, she wiped her hands on her pants anxiously. Even though she had done it plenty of times, she hated displeasing her dad. He'd seemed so fretful – a little _too_ fretful – when she'd stepped through the door, and she wasn't so eager to be faced with that again, especially since she knew it was because of her that he was so distressed. _Hopefully he's calmed down a bit,_ she thought to herself, turning the corner and strolling into their combined kitchen and dining room.

Judith noted with surprise that Ross had already set the small table. There were two sets of plates and cutlery placed opposite to each other – as usual – with several steaming dishes in the centre. Her dad, who was wiping his hands on a tea-towel, nodded for her to take a seat, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Bemused, Judith sat down. Up close, she could see that the warm food looked far beyond Ross's cooking capabilities, which as far as she knew only extended to scrambled eggs and toast, both of which he was known on occasions to ruin anyway. She was usually the one who did the cooking, but her late arrival had apparently resulted in _this_ – jasmine rice, a broccoli stir-fry and a beef, potato and carrot stew.

She stared at her dad, eyebrows furrowed in thought, as he sat down. Glancing briefly at her, he began spooning food onto his plate. "Well, go ahead and eat," he said when she didn't do the same.

"Did you really cook this?" she asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Of course," Ross replied smoothly, not looking up.

"Are you sure?"

"No." He sighed dejectedly. "It's a microwave meal."

"Thought so," Judith said smugly, allowing herself a small smile, and began piling food onto her own plate. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until she dug in; soon enough, she was stuffing her mouth faster than she could swallow. It suddenly hit her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast, as she'd left the university before lunch break and in the process had forgotten all about the sandwich in her bag.

"Good to know you're eating well," Ross noted. "I remember when you were younger, you wouldn't eat anything except—"

"_Dad,_" Judith interrupted, embarrassed even though there was no-one around to hear him. "Can I just eat, please?"

"Fine," he said, shrugging. Not even a second had passed before he added, "So how was your day?"

"Good," she said simply after swallowing another large mouthful.

Ross made an exasperated noise. "Of course it was," he said, "because you didn't go to class."

"I thought we were over this." Judith scowled, placing her tableware on her plate and glaring at him.

"Alright, alright." He raised his hands in submission. "I'll be quiet. We will still continue this discussion at a later time, mind you."

"I don't care, as long as it's not now," she said, a trace of annoyance to her tone.

"So what did you end up doing, since you didn't go to your lectures?" Ross asked, looking sceptically over his glasses.

"Nothing much," Judith lied, hesitating a little. "Annaliese came and hunted me down, but other than that, it was pretty uneventful."

"Oh?" Her dad raised an eyebrow.

She shrugged. "Yeah."

"I know you're generally pretty sensible, but—" He stared at her. "—don't be talking to any strangers, okay?"

"W-why would I do that?" she stuttered, wiping her hands nervously on her jeans underneath the table. Alfred may have been a stranger, but he was _nice_. She was sure her dad wouldn't mind him…

"Especially ones with blonde hair, blue eyes, glasses and American accents," he continued, narrowing his eyes at her.

Judith felt her heart skip a beat, but all she said was, "Dad. We're _all_ American."

"Yes, I am aware of that," he sighed, "but I just want you safe, alright?"

"Okay… but why so specific, Dad?"

"No reason." Ross gripped his fork tighter, his knuckles going white. "No reason at all."

**oOo**

Watching the rain dribble down his office window, Young let out a heated growl into the phone.

"For God's sake, man, can't you do _anything_ right?" he grumbled exasperatedly into the receiver, rubbing his temple to soothe the oncoming headache.

"I'm sorry, Mr Vice President," a frightened voice stammered, "but the task you have given me is near impossibility!"

"Exactly," Young replied, trying with all his might to remain calm and collected. "_Near_ impossibility, as you said, which still makes it possible to complete."

"Yes, sir!"

"Now get to it," Young ordered, "and don't call me back until you have made progress."

"Yes, sir – right away, sir."

Young slammed the phone down and lent backwards into his leather chair. A _boom_ of thunder and a _crack_ of lightning made the floor rumble and the room shine, giving Young a brief appearance made of shadows and sharp angles. His eyes darkened and his greasy, slicked back tresses glinted in the little glow there was.

The only source of light in the space – apart from the raging storm outside – was a dingy lamp, the only blemished, unpolished piece of furniture in his office. It splayed minimal brightness on Young's desk, splattering flecks on the walls and picture frames behind him. He eyed it peevishly, thinking why he still had it. It didn't add anything decent to the pristine décor and it stuck out most vulgarly. _I need a new lamp._

His spheres landed on the stack of tattered, yellowing folders on his desk, still waiting to be sorted through: each one had a country's name written upon them, both normal and human, along with the prime minister's or president's names. The first one read in an edgy, computerised font:

_The United States of America/Alfred F. Jones  
President Marcus Ross, 2500 -_

Young pursed his lips at the title, narrowing his orbs at Ross's name. He hated the fact that he had managed to get presidency, even if it _was_ a setup. Just because his daughter had the one thing they needed the most… he shook his head to clear it. _I need to focus,_ he reprimanded himself, leafing through the files furiously._This war won't win on its own._

He stopped as one profile caught his attention, the heading jumping out at him. He decided he would begin with that one.

Opening it to the first document, the words _The Russian Federation_ with a black and white photo of a young man with short hair and a large nose made him pause. His eyes skimmed over the report, his brain drinking in every nook and cranny of the boy's description. All the stories and legends that he was told as a child were all beginning to make sense. All the tales that he assumed to be lies were actually true; his mind went into an overdrive and he was about to close the file when he read something from the corner of his eye. They settled on a few figures, which turned out to be the date of the boy's formation and dissolution: _882 – 2200_

"So this boy was a victim of The War," he mused aloud, tracing the picture of the chubby-faced male. "Pity. He would have made a great ally."

Closing the folder, Young proceeded to the next one, determination coursing through him. The country needed him and the taste of battle and the brink of war made his blood boil pleasantly. He was not going to rest until he had found himself an honourable confederate.

He wanted someone who was willing to go against their, now his, enemy, willing to face them in combat and bring them down, willing to cause Alfred F. Jones heartbreak. Purely thinking about the obnoxious American made his stomach churn. There was something about the youthful-looking male that sent shivers down his spine. The morning's events played in his head and he remembered the stormy spark in his azure irises, the very meaning of what he believed to be Death itself.

Going through another document, this particular one reading _Germany, Deutschland/Ludwig_, Young's thoughts began to wander. All the effort into making this war happen had taken all the energy out of him but a satisfying feeling flowed through his veins. He allowed himself a small smile. _Soon, we shall have a cleansing of the human race's filth._

"NATHAN YOUNG!"

Young jumped, dropping the paper he was holding in his hands. He gawked, wide-eyed, at the door to his office. The sound of angry stomping became louder and louder as they came closer to the entrance. He was in two minds to either flee or stay. He didn't have the time to choose, however, when the wooden egress slammed open and a familiar figure stood in its arch.

"How dare you?" they seethed, marching up to the table. "How _dare_ you lie to me?"

"Lie, America?" Young said silkily, clasping his hands together in front of him. "I did no such thing."

"Yes you did," Alfred countered, the usual light shade of blue of his eyes turning a dark cobalt. "You told me that we were waging war against Australia." He leant forward until he was face-to-face with Young. "Australia was just recently dissolved. I knew something didn't make sense. So tell me – who are we fighting against?"

Young blinked several times, his expression blank. He didn't want to tell the American boy the truth… yet. He still had plans steadily primed for him and he wasn't one to reveal anything on request. That was not how a genius worked.

"It's no one you know," he replied flippantly, arranging the disordered papers into a neat pile. He peered up at Alfred. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Not until you tell me the truth," Alfred retorted, his stance rigid and his features set in fortitude. Young sighed softly, looking impassive.

"Then we're going to be here for a while," Young mumbled, letting the mound of folders fall in front of him.

Alfred let out a bitter laugh. "You ass. Obviously this morning's discussion went in one ear and out the other." The young American's face turned downcast as the words left his lips. "My brother used to tell me that every meeting we had, you know? Back in the old days…"

Young arched a brow. Alfred noticed this and his volatile expression returned. "But that is beside the point. Tell me, or I'm out."

"'Out?'" Young repeated, rising from his chair. He mirrored Alfred's position and he relished the startled look on Alfred's face. "You can't be 'out', America. Do you want to fail your people?"

"You know what I mean by 'out'," Alfred countered.

"Do I?"

"Yes."

Young studied the American boy. He had been worried that something like this would have happened, but he wasn't going to let Alfred take the mickey out of him. Opening his first drawer, he retrieved a gun and pressed it under Alfred's chin. Alfred merely chuckled.

"Seriously? This is your means to make me obey?" Alfred said, disbelief forming around his features. "You know I can't die – not like that."

"Do you want to put that to the test?" Young growled, cocking the weapon into place.

"Go ahead," Alfred snarled, "but I know you can't do it. I can see it in your eyes."

"Then you don't know me at all," Young murmured, pulling the trigger.

The _bang_ never came. Young frowned in confusion, peeking downwards at the weapon.

"You forgot to put the bullets in," Alfred told him matter-of-factly, smacking the gun out of the man's hands. The metal object went skidding across the floor and a slight pang of fear went through Young's chest. "Now tell me, or things will get ugly."

Young gulped inaudibly, his eyes darting from Alfred's face to his clenched hands. "Normandy," he said dejectedly. "We're against Normandy."

"France?" Alfred exclaimed, his irises wide. "Why?"

"It's complicated," Young told him, looking at him fully. "I'm sorry. I know how close you are."

"Evidently not close enough," Alfred uttered, his shoulders slumping. "I – I need to go…"

With that, Alfred left the room, leaving behind a very baffled Young. _What just happened?_ he thought quizzically, glancing down at the files in front of him once again. A wicked grin broadened swiftly on his face as he read the top document's title.

"Gotcha, you evil, little –" he muttered, seizing the paper with vigour and newfound bliss. His orbs raked over the report, a bubble of satisfaction arising in his torso. "Now I know everything about you, _rival_."

Young hurriedly grabbed his car keys and left his office in search for his accomplices, leaving the folder he had been looking at wide open on his table. A sliver of moonlight seeped through the glass pane, illuminating the details on the page. A photograph of a young man in his early-twenties glistened in the beam, his large, bushy eyebrows casting dark shadows on his picture. The caption beneath his picture read in bold lettering: _The United Kingdom/England, Arthur Kirkland_. Scribbled hastily by a messy hand in a red, inky pen was:

_ENEMY OF THE USA._

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun**

**So there you have it!**

**Reviews are much appreciated!~**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi guys~ Long time no see, eh? Yeah, sorry about that. School has been a meanie and hellodair and I have been most unproductive with this story. However... we have made up for that with a lengthy chapter! ^^**

**ENJOY**

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not hellodair's or mine. Hidekazu Himaruya has all rights. The story and plot belongs to myself and hellodair.**

* * *

His breathing ragged, Young slammed his hands down on the office table, an infuriated expression fixed upon his severe, angular features. Jaw clenched and dark brow furrowed, he glared at the young messenger who stood trembling before him. Even from a distance of several metres, Young could see the quivering of the boy's lips, the droplets of sweat trickling down the side of his pale face. The Vice President knew he had a terrifying presence, and it was something he took pride in.

"What do you mean, you can't find Arthur Kirkland? It's been a week and there still hasn't been any progress," he snarled, leaning forward.

The boy visibly flinched. "N-no, we don't know where he is, sir," he stuttered, lifting a hand to wipe the perspiration off his forehead. "I-it seems he's gone into hiding, sir—"

"Pathetic," Young interrupted, turning away to look out the window. Directing his disgust at the city below, he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.

"Yes, it's very pathetic, sir." Relief was evident in the boy's tone. "A country going into hiding, how pathe—"

"No, not him." Young swivelled around to face the messenger, his harsh gaze meeting the youth's terrified one. "You. _All_ of you."

"Us, Mr Vice President?" the boy inquired, putting on a brave face. However, it was clear that he wasn't quite as valiant as he appeared; the trembling hands and lip-biting showed the truth. "Why would we be the pathetic ones?"

"Because I have given you a _week_," the Vice President spat out through grinded teeth, "to track down Arthur Kirkland and bring him to me, and now it has _been_ a week – _one hundred and sixty eight_ whole hours – and you still haven't managed to accomplish anything."

"I'm afraid you will have to take this matter to my boss, sir." The boy looked down at his feet. "As much as I would like to help, it is beyond my responsibilities."

Young let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, I _will_ talk to your boss, boy," he sneered, running a hand along the edge of his wooden table, "and I will tell him that I am considering seeking a more _reliable_ and _efficient_ agency to carry out this task, and that unless he gets on with it, I will be withdrawing all my funds from his little weapons industry."

The boy drew in a sharp intake of breath. "He won't be very happy with that, sir," he said fearfully, his eyes still downcast.

"Exactly." A smug smile played across Young's pursed lips. "And if he knows what's good for him, he'll try harder to follow my orders."

"Y-yes, sir." The boy swallowed, his brown orbs flicking up and down anxiously. "I'll inform him right away, sir."

"Good." Young took his seat behind the desk, raising a dark eyebrow at the youth. "You are dismissed – go, and hope that we don't come face to face again because next time, your boss won't be the only one suffering the consequences of this unpunctuality."

The boy gave a small bow and turned to leave, but just as he was about to step out of Young's office, the phone resting atop the Vice President's wooden table began to ring, its jarring, high-pitched tone causing both males to flinch in distaste.

"Wait," Young ordered, placing a hand on the phone and lifting it to his ear. The boy halted, clenching his hands into fists. "Don't leave just yet."

"Yes, sir." He nodded obediently, turning around.

"Well?" the Vice President said tersely into the mouthpiece, the boy watching on anxiously. "What is it?"

"Good evening, Mr Young," said the deep, rough, slightly accented voice on the other end. The intonation was familiar to Young – unfortunately.

"It's _Vice President_ Young to you," Young corrected, a hint of irritability to his tone.

"My apologies, Vice President," the voice amended. "I understand that my messenger has already paid a visit to your office."

"Yes, he has." Young arched an eyebrow at the boy standing in his doorway. "I'm about to send him away with a rather unpleasant message for you—"

"I'm afraid there will be no need for that." There was a triumphant air to that statement. "We have Arthur Kirkland."

Young's grip on the phone tightened. "You'd better not be lying to me."

"I think I know better than to do that, Vice President."

"Very well," Young said, a cruelly satisfied smile slowly curving his lips. "Make sure he's at least in a presentable state. I'm on my way."

**oOo**

Raucous laughter filled the lecture room, the rustle of papers and dull _thunks_ of folders and books on tables mixed in with the airy ambience. Annaliese took her usual seat at the front, her pencils, pens, correction tape, paper and textbooks in their typical places. The only thing that seemed out of place was the dreary frown on her brow.

_I wonder if Judith is even going to bother coming today,_ she thought, locking her gaze on the entrance to the classroom. _It'll be a miracle if she did…_

"Hey Annaliese!" a voice called from the other end of the area. Annaliese looked over and beamed when she laid eyes on one Rick Georgeton. His large grin was contagious and his dark brown irises were filled with warmth and mirth. Bleached hair going this way and that, his nose ring glinting from the lecture theatre lights and his black jacket hanging loosely on his lanky figure, he made his way over to Annaliese with a spring in his step.

"Hey," he greeted once he got to her, sliding into the seat next to hers and dumping his items on another. "How are you?"

"Good," Annaliese replied, feeling her cheeks go hot. "Yourself?"

"Eh, alright, I suppose," Rick responded, glancing at the door before putting his feet up casually. He turned his attention to Annaliese. "Where were you yesterday at break? You just disappeared! I was looking all over for you."

"I'm sorry," she said, a sheepish smile forming on her face. "I went to try and find Judith, and to interrogate her as to why she wasn't coming to the lectures."

"Ah, say no more," Rick murmured, nodding understandably. "Did you find her?"

"I did," Annaliese sighed, fiddling with one of her pencils. "Not easily, mind. She keeps changing her hiding spots."

"Does she now?" Rick raised an eyebrow. "Where was she this time? In the Science Lab – inventing a concoction to blow up the uni?"

Annaliese chortled loudly, lightly punching Rick in the shoulder. "No, you idiot! That's silly, even for Judy. And besides," her expression turned serious, "you know I can't tell you that."

"Well, I tried," Rick proclaimed dramatically, pretending to swoon. "Oh, Judith! My poor, poor Judith. Where for art thou, Judith? _Where for art thou?_"

"Please, you're so stupid," Annaliese told him playfully, rolling her eyes. "If you want to know where Judith is so badly, go and find her yourself, you lazy bug!"

"You wound me!" he cried, mock offence gracing his features. "My heart _bleeds_ from your snide comments!"

"Oh, you child!" Annaliese crowed, chucking an eraser at Rick's head, who ducked and guffawed, throwing his head back when he came up.

She felt her heart skip a beat: she loved Rick's laugh. It made everything else around her seem to fade into the background and bring the pair of them into focus. It made the air cheery and light, positive in her eyes when her days were down in the dumps.

Everything about Rick she loved. His good-natured, laid-back demeanour put a smile on everyone's face, though his fashion sense was highly disapproved by the teachers: jeans, Converses with the tongue hanging out, two shirts and a jacket, two out of the three unbuttoned, gelled, peroxided locks and a nose ring to top it all off. Not that he cared about their attitude towards his style, for he still achieved top marks in all his subjects. His love for heavy metal and pure rock was shown by all the posters in his bedroom and the blaring music that pumped from his headphones. Annaliese loved it all.

_Too bad he's got it for Judith,_ she mused, her vibrant mind going from extremely colourful to dull and grey. _I would happily be his…_

"Oh, my, God," Rick declared, his spheres wide in astonishment. "Look who's here! The Lord above has heard our prayers, Anna!"

Confused, Annaliese followed Rick's line of sight and saw, to her surprise, a familiar figure standing in the archway.

"Judith?"

"Hi guys," Judith sang, a grin stretching from ear to ear. "How are you both?"

_Dear God, what's happened to her?_ Annaliese pondered, exchanging alarmed guises with Rick as Judith took her seat between them. _Is she… no, she wouldn't do that! She's much too innocent for that kind of thing!_

"Judy, are you high?" Rick blurted out, which resulted in him receiving a clout on the arm from Annaliese. "Ow! Anna, that hurt!"

Judith blinked at him before letting out a giggle. "Me? High? Come on, Rick, you know I'm not the sort to deal with drugs."

"But look at you!" he exclaimed, his fine, dark eyebrows vanishing into his hairline. "You're too… happy – and you're smiling. This is not your normal behaviour, my friend."

"Rick's right," Annaliese agreed, gazing at Judith worriedly. "Not to mention you're _here_ of all places! You hardly come to lectures, Judy!"

"Oh, oh, hold on a second." Rick paused. "You met someone, didn't you?"

Judith turned sharply towards Rick and Annaliese saw her cheeks grow pink. "What are you talking about, idiot? Meet who? I hardly talk to anyone that's not Dad! You two are the only exceptions."

"Then why are you being so defensive, Judy?" Annaliese inquired slyly, a toothy, Cheshire Cat smirk plastered on her face.

"I'm not being defensive," Judith retorted, setting her utensils on the desk in front of her.

"You totally are," Rick argued, a large grin spreading across his face.

Before Judith could voice a retort, the professor forwarded into the room with a stern expression on his face.

"Settle down! I do not have time for any time-wasters today!" he bellowed, much to the class's amazement. "Get your stuff together and open your textbooks!"

He slammed his folders on his desk with resounding bang, causing everyone to jump in their seats. Annaliese felt very perplexed. Their professor was usually easy-going and intellectual, often leading their lecture with a radiant smile on his face. Never before had anyone seen him like this.

There was not a sound to be heard over the next hour. Everyone's heads were bent over their exercise books and their pencils and pens scribbling hurriedly. Annaliese looked up occasionally to copy down notes and to take a peek at Rick and Judith. _What's the relationship between those two, I wonder…_ she mulled over each time, twirling her pen between her fingers. _He seems to be more worried about her lately. Does he… seriously love her like that?_

Annaliese shook her head to clear it, attempting to concentrate on the lesson. She did not want to be in the professor's Big Black Book today. In fact, she was sure that no one did.

The class ended quicker than she thought it would and she, Rick and Judith hastily collected their things and hurried out of the lecture hall faster than a Japanese bullet train.

"Sheesh! I wonder what's up with the Prof today?" Rick whispered loudly when they reached the safety of the canteen area, which wasn't far from their classroom. "I've never seen him act like that before!"

"I don't think anyone has, Rick," Judith pointed out, taking a seat at a vacant table, wincing at the noise that was getting increasingly louder. "But I do wonder what happened."

"Yeah…" Annaliese agreed, sitting next to Judith. Rick sat opposite them and put his chin in his palm, huffing. "It's just too weird. Maybe we should have stayed behind and asked him what was wrong."

"What, and get put into his 'Book'? No way, Anna," Rick interjected, looking pained. "We'll ask him tomorrow, when he's calmed down."

Both Annaliese and Judith approved, and then the three of them rummaged through their bags for their lunch. They ate together, exchanging jokes and stories over the past couple of days. Since Judith hadn't been in for a while, she spent most of the time listening to Rick and Annaliese ramble on about what other students did and the massive workload the professors had given them, laughing with them and at their misery.

Annaliese was glad that Judith was with them. _It's like the old times… back in the old days._ She giggled at that thought.

"What are you laughing at?" Judith inquired, puzzled.

"Oh, I was just thinking," Annaliese told her, grinning widely. "It's been a long time since we last did this kind of thing."

"Hmm, I wonder why that is," Rick said cynically, eyeing Judith with a glint in his dark brown spheres. Judith snorted and tried to fling piece of corn from her pasta dish at him. "Hey! What is it with you two and chucking things at me today?"

"Ask yourself that question and maybe you'll get your answer," Annaliese shot back, slapping Judith's hand for a high-five under the table.

"You're so mean to me!" Rick whined, sliding underneath the table top. "I shall sulk here for the rest of the day."

"Be our guest," said Judith, covering her mouth with her hand, her shoulders shaking with silent hilarity.

"_Rude!_"

After trading poker-faced glances, Judith and Annaliese burst out laughing, clutching their stomachs and letting tears of mirth escape their closed lids.

"Why do you torture me so?" Rick muttered, unamused, clambering back out from under the bench.

"Because we love you, dear," Annaliese answered, patting his cheek.

"Sure you do," he mumbled but then a mischievous expression spread across his features. "Why don't you prove it?"

Annaliese felt her face grow hot, but she kept her ground. "How?"

Rick smirked and pointed to his cheek, angling it to face Annaliese. Her mouth fell open in shock and she rapidly began to stutter in protest. _Is he seriously asking me to kiss him?_

"Come on, Anna! It's just one little kiss," Rick crooned. "Besides, we've been friends for years. This should be a normal thing for us."

"Yeah but… people might get the wrong idea," Annaliese retorted.

"Please?" Rick pleaded, engaging what Annaliese called 'the puppy-eyed look'. She knew she wouldn't stand a chance.

"_Fine,_" she grumbled, leaning over and pressing her lips to his cheek.

"Yay!" he cheered, fist-pumping the air. Annaliese made a tsk sound.

"You are so immature."

"You secretly love it," Rick countered, smiling smugly. It began to falter when he gazed over to Judith. "Where do you think you're going?"

Annaliese set her attention on Judith: her bag was slung over one shoulder and she was rapidly typing into her phone. She stood up and gave Rick a weary guise. "It's my weird day, Rick."

Once every two weeks, Judith's timetable did something strange: she would have all her lectures first thing in the morning from around six o'clock until the lunch break. Then she would be free for the rest of the day.

"You're going already?" Annaliese asked.

Judith nodded. "Dad's asking me to come home as soon as possible. It's urgent, apparently."

"Aw, that sucks," Rick complained, pouting. "Say hi to your dad from me."

"And me!"

"Will do," Judith laughed, raising a hand in farewell. "See you guys tomorrow!"

With that, she walked out of the canteen space, her head bent over her mobile. Annaliese frowned. _Something's wrong with that girl._

"It's a shame she had to leave. Particularly since I had something pretty serious to talk to you two about," Rick sighed.

Annaliese snapped her head towards him. "How serious?"

"Very," Rick said grimly and Annaliese was startled at his grave demeanour. "There are these… rumours flying around. They're pretty weird but the more I think about them, the more they start to make sense."

"What are these rumours, Rick?"

Rick remained silent and Annaliese started to get scared. The suspense was too strong in the air around them.

"It's… complicated but… you deserve to know," Rick began, making himself a bit more comfortable in his seat. "There are people saying that the world is going into another war. I don't know all the details but the things people are saying are quite freaky."

"A war? But that's impossible!" Annaliese cried. "I'm pretty sure that we've learnt our lesson from… that one."

"I know, but these are just rumours, like I said," Rick stated, "but they have to start from somewhere. I don't want another war and everything but it's better to know something than nothing."

"So what are people saying?"

"They're saying that we are going against an old ally – one that has been on our side since the beginning of conflict. It's bad, apparently. People say that it's a major betrayal."

"That bad? Oh my God…"

Annaliese covered her mouth, her thoughts swimming like fish in a pond. _Allies… who are our allies? Great Britain. France. China. New Zealand. Norway. Belgium. The Netherlands. Greece. Who would betray us like that? Especially after that horrid war 300 years ago? Who? Why?_

"What the hell?"

"What?"

"Is that Judith?"

Shooting up out of her seat, Annaliese went over to Rick, who was gawking out one of the many windows with surprise flashing across his eyes.

"What's she doing there?" Rick said and Annaliese saw the moving figure of their friend down below. She was walking towards the exit, but to Annaliese and Rick, they both knew that she was heading in a completely different direction than usual. "Her home's the other way!"

"Should I follow her?" Annaliese inquired, already gathering her things together. _Something is definitely up with that girl. What the heck is she doing?_

"You should," Rick answered immediately, checking his watch. "You have time before our next lecture. Go!"

Annaliese didn't need to be told twice. Then, not knowing what hit her, she gave Rick a fleeting kiss on the cheek as a goodbye and rushed out of the canteen room.

**oOo**

Feeling determined and more alert than in the past couple of days, Young hopped out of his vehicle and rushed to the entrance of a large, official building. As he wiped his sweaty hands on his dark grey suit jacket and patted down his unruly dark hair to restore it to its usual refined state, thoughts flitted around his head about Ross, about Alfred and Arthur, and of course about war. Pushing the doors open – unsurprised to find that they had been left unlocked for him – he smiled inwardly in anticipation. He felt as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long, and now it was finally happening.

The interior of the building was dimly lit, the pale yellow glow casting a sickly sheen on to Young's pale skin. Dull grey walls and white-tiled floors gave the space a sterile, hospital-like atmosphere. Young crinkled his nose in revulsion; he could almost smell the stench of antiseptic and sickness. What made the place different to a hospital, however, were the doors along the hallway – large, metal ingresses, locked and bolted and labelled with placards that read 'Dangerous chemicals – do not enter' and 'Weapons testing in action'. There were also the guards – their green uniforms the only source of colour in the entire area – walking through the network of halls, talking on communication devices, carrying large rifles and other mysterious weapons that Young could not name.

"Vice President Young?"

Glancing to his side, Young met the eyes of a boy. Unlike the messenger who had been sent to Young's office, this boy stood tall and confident, almost radiating an aura of fearlessness. He was dressed in a similar manner to the guards around them, but something about him spoke of authority, despite his youthful, somewhat rugged exterior: chin-length, shaggy blonde hair, dark green eyes, and what looked like a permanent frown. Young was not sure what he thought of the young man, but he certainly did find him interesting.

"That would be me," he replied smoothly, his dark eyes flicking up and down, taking in the boy's appearance.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Welcome to the Swiss Embassy, Vice President." He spoke with a slight accent, although his English was perfect. "My name is Basch Zwingli." He extended a hand.

Young shook it. The name sounded familiar to him, but he decided not to ask. It was better to let things unravel for themselves, he thought.

"I understand that you are here to see President Kuhndert," Basch continued, turning on his heel and striding down the hallway as if expecting Young to follow, which he did.

"Indeed I am," Young said, trying to keep up with the boy's quick pace. "And I understand that he has Arthur Kirkland."

From behind, Young could see Basch's shoulders tense, but all he said was, "You are correct."

"Good," Young said, smirking. "I'll have you know that I don't like to be lied to. I also do not like lateness – make sure you tell that to your boss."

"I think he knows that very well already." Basch's tone was unreadable, neutral, but Young could sense that it was the end of the conversation.

They continued in silence for a few minutes, Basch leading Young through the twisting maze of hallways. The Vice President noticed that the guards parted for them, leaving a clear path, whenever they walked by. Whether it was him or the boy who caused this he did not know, but he did not stop to ponder it – each step brought him closer to his goal, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Finally, they came to a set of double doors, which were wooden, Young observed, unlike the metal of those in the hallways. With a start, he realised that they reminded him of the doors of Ross's Presidential Office. His mind flashed back to a week earlier, a series of events replaying themselves in his mind: him, holding a gun to the President's head, watching the beads of sweat trickle down the side of Ross's face and relishing in the fear he saw in those grey eyes; and then the tables were turned – it was Young who was at gunpoint, his eyes focused on the weapon in Alfred's hands, hoping that the boy didn't have it in him to pull the trigger, feeling _terror_ for what felt like the first time in his life…

"… Sir?"

Young snapped back to the present, his breathing ragged. His grip on the door handles was tight, his knuckles slowly turning white. Releasing them, he let out a slow breath.

"Are you okay?" Basch asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"Just fine," he replied without turning to look at the boy. Steadying himself, he placed his hands on the brass handles once again, feeling a rush of adrenaline overcome him. He wasn't going to give this child the impression that he was weak – he was the _Vice President_ of America, a leader, a man in a position of power. He was going to enter this war determinedly, and he was going to ensure that he had everything he needed to win it. Nathan Young was not weak, and he was definitely not a coward – in fact, he was the opposite, and he was going to show the world that he could triumph. As he pushed the large doors open, only one thought lingered in his head.

_I am going to_ break _Arthur Kirkland, and through him, that idiot Alfred F. Jones._

**oOo**

The afternoon sun beat down on Annaliese's head as she rushed after her friend's retreating back, attempting to remain hidden and undetected. She wiped her clammy forehead and resisted grumbling in annoyance as she heaved her heavy bag further up her shoulder.

She had been following Judith for a while and as she checked the time on her watch, she knew that she was not going to make it to her next lecture. _Bloody heck, Judith! This is all your fault!_

In most situations similar to the one Annaliese was in, the majority of people would just interrogate their friend the next day as to why they went the opposite way home. But not Annaliese. She had always felt that Judith needed a mothering figure in her life and she had known her since they were kids. It was unnerving when Judith was hiding something and it constantly made her instincts flare up in response.

As the pair of them scaled a large, towering hill, Annaliese then realised that they were in the same place as the previous day: the great, lush valley on the outskirts of the city and their university. She was rather perplexed. _What is she doing here again?_

Annaliese fingered her mobile, waiting for exactly the right moment to call Rick. She kept the distance between her and Judith far apart but enough so she could faintly hear what Judith was saying into her cell phone and the _swish_ of her legs in the long grass.

Tucking a piece of auburn hair behind her ear, Annaliese ducked behind a bush as they reached the peak. She was able to see Judith and the valley clearing beyond the mound clearly. Watching Judith scan the forest basin below, Annaliese followed her line of sight and her heart skipped a beat as her eyes landed on something – or rather, _someone_ – that stood near a looming tree.

"Ah! I see you," Judith cried out, raising a hand and waving to the figure. Annaliese saw the form turn their way and wave back. "Hold on, I'm coming down."

Judith began to head down the slope and Annaliese took the chance to dial Rick's number. Her body rigid, she impatiently waited for him to answer.

"Did you find her?" was her immediate question from him when he picked up. "Tell me you found her."

Annaliese opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her voice was stuck in her throat in incredulity and she couldn't begin to find the words to explain exactly what she was witnessing.

"Hello? Anna? You still there?" Rick pressed, his speech slightly crackly on the other end. "What's happening?"

"_Judith has a boyfriend!_" she blurted into the receiver, her orbs not once leaving the greeting couple at the bottom of the hill.

There was a short-lived silence before Rick's unbelieving tone shouted, "_What?_"

* * *

**A/N: Mwahahahahahahahaha :D**

**Reviews are much appreciated~**

**And speaking of reviews, hellodair and I would like to thank the lovely person who reviewed. Mate, you are awesome and thank you so much! ^^**


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